3
John Collins coiled up his whip and stepped back once more from the
naked, dangling body of the woman. He was perspiring heavily from exertion, but
he felt fine. His cock was so hard and stiff it was threatening to burst through
his trousers. Almost absently, he unzipped his fly and let it out. He fondled it
gently as he gazed at the hanging figure. Worn out by agony and fatigue, she was
unable to twist and writhe as she had done so beautifully at the beginning of
her ordeal; but the limp body gave an occasional involuntary jerk or shudder,
and the low tortured moans which escaped almost continuously from her slack
mouth added to his pleasure.
How sweet it was!
He recalled her as she had looked when she had walked into his office
only the day before. An attractive and successful young woman, lovely, proud,
intelligent, and extremely confident. She was wearing a turquoise-blue buttoned
sweater which matched her eyes and set off her long straight golden hair, as
well as outlining in mouth-watering detail the proud thrust of her shapely
breasts; and a light grey skirt which stopped well above her knees, exposing
most of her bare, lusciously curved legs. When she sat down at his invitation,
the skirt pulled up even higher on the sensuous thighs, and he couldn't surpress
a quick mental flash of how it would be to lay his whip across them.
Nothing of this showed in his face, however. He smiled at her charmingly
and said, "How nice to meet you, Miss Gordon. It was good of you to come." His
voice was smooth and friendly.
Her clear eyes were level on his. She did not return his smile. "I was
surprised to hear from you," she said.
"Surely not."
"I've been trying to get in touch with you for weeks. You never returned
my calls."
He made a deprecatory gesture. "That was before your story appeared this
weekend. I get so many calls... and I didn't know who you were, or--"
"I clearly identified myself as a reporter for the JOURNAL."
He waved a hand. "Still, I--"
"You felt no obligation or responsibility to talk to the press. I know.
You and the Council have gotten away with everything for so long, you felt
invulnerable. Until my story came out, and now you're squirming."
For just a moment John Collins's eyes went hard as black diamonds. The
moment was brief; then the smile returned. "That's putting things a little
harshly, Miss Gordon. You have made some very serious allegations--"
"All proved. All backed up with facts, figures, dates--"
"That is a matter of opinion," Collins said. "The City Council is a
group of highly distinguished men--"
"Highly currupt men. Seven high-placed swindlers, who have been bilking
this city for years. I've proved it."
Collins went on as if she hadn't spoken. "These men have asked me, as
attorney for the Council, to see that the record is set straight."
"I'll be glad to report what you have to say," the girl said, taking out
a notebook and pen. "I would have done it when the story appeared, if I'd been
able to reach any of you. But I don't see how you can deny the facts."
"The members of the Council, Miss Gordon, would like you to print a
complete retraction."
She looked amused. "I'm sure they would, but--"
"And an apology."
The amusement turned into a frown. "Are you serious?"
"Very serious." He paused briefly. "And there's more."
"What do you mean?"
He leaned back in his chair. There was no smile now; he gazed at her
intently. "You see, Miss Gordon, the Council members--along with myself--are
extremely disturbed at this... this slur on their reputations. They are angry.
They wish you to tender your apology to them, not only in print, but also in
a... personal way." Now he smiled again; the smile this time was not charming in
the least. "A MOST personal way."
She stared at him. "I don't understand."
"Since your story appeared, I have done some checking on you, Miss
Gordon, on the Council's behalf. The Council was very gratified to learn that
you are an extremely attractive young woman."
"Now look--"
"The members are partial to attractive young women, you see. And they
have decided to make your apology an occasion for... satisfying that
partiality."
There was a dead pause. Then the girl shut her notebook with an angry
snap and stood up. "If you're saying what I think you're saying--" she began
furiously.
"I am indeed," Collins said.
She whirled and headed for the door. "You watch the papers tomorrow, Mr.
Collins," she hurled over her shoulder.
"It's locked, Miss Gordon," he said calmly.
She stopped at the door, hesitated, then tried the knob. The door would
not open.
She turned to face him, her cheeks burning. "Let me out of this room,"
she demanded.
"Not just yet," Collins said. "You see, I have been delegated to
persuade you to accede to the Council's wishes."
Her expression was scornful, but her voice was just a trifle less
steady. "And how do you intend to do that?"
Then he showed her the gun.
